


Louder

by literaryoblivion



Series: Convo!Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: End!verse, Episode: s05e04 The End, Frottage, Future Castiel, Future Dean Winchester, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, okay? just to warn you, this is HOT and SAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, Dean hated the thigh holster. Of course no one ever believed him because he was always seen with it on around camp and out on missions. If he hated it so much why did he bother to wear it everywhere? The reason being that even though he hated it, he loved it when Cas helped him put it on, and he especially loved it when Cas helped him take it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder

Contrary to popular belief, Dean hated the thigh holster. Of course no one ever believed him because he was always seen with it on around camp and out on missions. If he hated it so much why did he bother to wear it everywhere? The reason being that even though he hated it, he loved it when Cas helped him put it on, and he especially loved it when Cas helped him take it off. Even though Cas was human now (something Dean still blamed himself for because it was his fault that the ex-angel had to take a myriad of drugs just to keep himself from feeling so human and helpless, all because he chose Dean over what was probably the better and safer option of Heaven and destiny), he still insisted helping Dean in some small way.

And Dean let him, mostly out of guilt and the desire to let the angel still feel like he was useful and wanted and needed, which was true. He was wanted and needed, just in other ways, more human ways. But, he also let him because Dean took comfort in the touch of Cas’s fingers on his thigh, the sometimes-painful pinch of the strap when Cas pulled it tighter, sometimes unknowingly and sometimes on purpose either as punishment or as teasing. Cas would adjust it till Dean told him it was fine and comfortable, and often times Dean wouldn’t say it was till long after the placement had been perfect already.

When he had been out on a mission today—what was supposed to be a simple scavenging supply run turned into a Croat swarm attack—the only thought that kept Dean fighting off the evil sons of bitches wasn’t that he had to protect the men, his men, like it should have been. No, the thought that got him through all the blood and shouts had been Cas’s lips on his, his hands warm on his thighs as he removed the holster and made his way up to his hips, his voice repeating his name over and over again interspersed between gasps and moans. Maybe he should have felt worse for thinking this instead of about his duty as “fearless leader,” but he was so beyond feeling these days that he didn’t even care.

It was partly why he and Cas worked so well together, both of them were broken and past repair now, both pushing themselves away from their emotions, their mistakes, just so they wouldn’t have to deal with all the shit they had in their lives, past and present. Cas took drugs and had orgies, and Dean focused on guns and strategy. They had their different ways of dealing with it, but in the end they were the same: doing everything they could to distance themselves from everyone… well, everyone but each other. Because no matter how hard they tried, neither could ignore the pain and suffering the other experienced. They couldn’t hide it from each other, and so Dean had given up even trying to.

So when they had arrived back at camp, Dean had gone straight to their cabin, not even bothering to answer questions he was asked as he exited the truck, instead letting Chuck fill the others in on what happened, who hadn’t made it. Cas had stayed to hold down the fort while they had gone. It had been a standard rule that at least one of the three, the three being Chuck, Dean, and Cas, had to stay behind for everyone else just in case, especially since no one really had the full picture of the end but them. “The Fallen Trio” (Chuck had joked one time) had been in this from the beginning, only them. And while the others got the headlines, the logistics and basics of what was going on, they never understood, could never understand, what would have to be done. What Dean would have to do because he’d already long decided it was going to have to be him. Was always going to be him.

As Dean crossed the threshold of the cabin he and Cas shared, something that the rest of the camp knew but said nothing about and pretended not to realize, Dean hoped that Cas was alone and at least somewhat lucid. The mission had taken longer than they had expected because of the Croats, and whenever Dean was gone for too long was when Cas started taking his pills and alcohol, trying to forget how much he worried about Dean’s sorry ass and thinking the worse about what was keeping him. He had tried to tell Cas not to result to that, that Cas should know he’d always come back, but then he decided he really couldn’t keep such a promise. Besides, he’d be a hypocrite to tell Cas not to drink and drug himself to death. Because really, he’d be doing the same thing, only he wasn’t as brave as Cas, felt more obligated to do his duty than to let himself go like that despite how much he wanted to.

Standing in the entrance, Dean waited, listening for the all too familiar sounds of liquid sloshing in a glass or pills skittering across the table. Luckily he didn’t have to listen for high-pitched voices or moans because he could already tell by the smell that Cas wasn’t burning incense, which meant no orgy. Dean knew it was just another way that Cas made himself forget, and it wasn’t like they had made some monogamous commitment to each other. Dean slept with his own fair share of girls in the camp and he didn’t mind that Cas did too because in the end, they always came back to each other.

Thankfully all he could hear was a steady rhythm of steps and the occasional shuffle of slippers, a creak of wood on every fourth beat; Cas was pacing. The steps were firm and constant, not erratic or uneven implying lack of lucidity, so Dean hadn’t been too late arriving back then. Good. Dean walked inside further to where Cas was walking back and forth in front of the bed. As soon as he came into view, Cas stopped and stared at him, recognition and understanding crossing his face as he took in Dean’s appearance. Dean didn’t have to say a word, and Cas didn’t have to ask; they had reached that point already where they had full conversations with their eyes alone, and Cas knew what had happened just by the blood stains and tears on Dean’s clothes and the look of tiredness, no, resoluteness, and hunger in his eyes.

“Who?” Cas asked. Just the one word because that was the only thing he couldn’t read in Dean’s face.

“Joe and Chazi, well and Marta cause she got infected.”

Cas winced slightly at Marta’s name, causing Dean’s eyebrows to go up slightly at Cas’s recognition of it. She had been young, too young, and pretty and naïve, although she hid it well behind a shield of bravery and flippant arrogance. Dean knew it was all a façade because it takes one to know one, and he’d recognize the act he’d perfected over the years anywhere. Well at least she hadn’t died a virgin if Cas’s wince was anything to go by.

Turning, Cas made a move towards the bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the table by the bed, but Dean grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No. Later… after,” said Dean, his voice gruff and full of need. Cas nodded, letting himself be pulled closer to Dean, letting Dean seal their lips together because this had become a standard between them as well.

Dean’s mouth was hot and warm, and his lips were rough and chapped. He licked into Cas’s open mouth as if it held the key to his survival, which in a way wasn’t far from the truth. His tongue moved over teeth and lips, tasting the inside of Cas’s mouth like it was nectar. He growled in frustration when Cas made no move in return, only letting himself be kissed, letting Dean lap into his mouth hungrily, letting himself be used.

Wordlessly Dean broke the one-sided kiss and fell back on to the bed, pulling Cas backwards on top of him so that his chest was pressed to the angel’s back, his ass resting in Dean’s lap. Dean was already half-hard, had been while he had thought of Cas’s breathy moans all the way back to camp, and with the man on top of him now, it wouldn’t be long before Cas’s rocking would bring him the rest of the way. He kissed at Cas’s neck, letting the man re-adjust and make himself comfortable on top of him. Cas brought his legs up on the bed, resting them on either side of Dean’s thighs, essentially kneeling on top of him. Dean didn’t quite understand how that could be more comfortable, but Cas’s odd positions and flexibility stopped bothering him a while ago.

Lowering himself down again, Cas leaned back, his head on Dean’s shoulder and neck bared so Dean could go back to kissing it. And he did, licking along his jaw, biting at the base of his neck and shoulder, but still Cas made no sounds or movements like he was even remotely interested.

Dean sighed. “Come on, Cas,” he muttered, a touch of desperation in his words. He kissed again behind Cas’s ear, softer and gentler than before. His arms wrapped around Cas’s waist, holding him closer, pressing him in tighter to his torso so he could feel every shiver and breath and heartbeat. He needed Cas, needed him to be responding in kind because that was just as important to Dean. Cas knew how much Dean hated the whole experience if it ended up being just for him, if Cas didn’t receive some pleasure from it. He didn’t like feeling as if he was using Cas, even if Cas didn’t care that he was, not when it came to Dean. Dean rubbed his hands over Cas’s chest, slipping them beneath the loose thin cotton shirt he wore. His calloused fingertips brushed over nipples, and when they did there was a small gasp from Cas. Pleased he was finally getting something, Dean continued rubbing small circles over Cas’s nipples, feeling them harden beneath his fingers; Cas twitched slightly, leaning farther back into Dean.

Gradually Dean slid one of his hands down Cas’s stomach, the other still playing with his nipples. He went lower, resting his hand high on Cas’s thigh, the worn fabric soft beneath his palm, the angel’s groin within reach. He went back to kissing and licking at the angel’s neck again while he brushed his fingers over Cas’s cock, and apparently the silent nonchalance had been an act because Cas was half-hard too. With a smirk, he bit playfully at Cas’ neck and palmed his groin more firmly, almost a reprimand for the lie and act of apathy he had been performing. The angel whimpered and rocked his hips a little with the touch, causing Dean to groan as the movement made Cas’s ass rub Dean’s hardening cock.

At this, Cas laughed and pressed his ass down with a wiggle and rocked back until Dean moaned again. Dean tried to snarl at this, but it came out as a needy whine because there was no denying that he wasn’t really that upset with what Cas was doing. He continued to knead Cas’s cock through his pants until he could feel him harden fully beneath his palm. Once he was satisfied, he slipped his hand underneath the waistband of Cas’s pants to feel his cock without the fabric between them. At the touch of skin, Cas shuddered and leaned back more so almost every inch of him was covering Dean’s body.

Dean took Cas in his hand, an almost too firm grip around his cock, and slowly moved up and down the shaft. It would be rough and Cas might chaff because of the lack of any kind of lubrication, but Cas had always said he didn’t care, that he preferred it that way. Dean thought it was because the pain afterwards would keep him forgetting long after the pleasure dulled, forget about their shitty circumstances because pain was just as good as alcohol and drugs for numbing, but he never asked. While Dean pumped his hand up and down, Cas got into a rhythm with it, moving his ass with Dean’s hand so that Dean’s cock wasn’t neglected either. Cas reached back to cup the back of Dean’s neck with one hand, and his other slipped between the straps of the thigh holster, forcing the straps to cut deeper into his thigh, but Dean ignored it. The pain helped him forget too.

Soon their rhythm got faster, and Cas could no longer control the moans and whimpers that escaped from him, and neither could Dean. Dean’s cock, even through his jeans, was throbbing and leaking, and it felt so good to feel the friction as Cas rocked back and forth into him. Cas was leaking too, which helped Dean’s hand slide better, and it wasn’t long before Cas was chanting his name getting closer and closer to climax.

“Hmmm… Dean. _Dean….ahhh._ Dean, I’m...”

“Louder,” Dean whispered in Cas’s ears, his hand going faster along Cas’s shaft, his other hand coming up to wrap around Cas’s throat so he can feel the vibrations of Cas’s shouts. “Say it, louder, Cas. I need it to be louder.”

And without question, the volume of Cas’s voice went up with every utterance of Dean’s name because he knew why he made this request. Dean needed Cas to shout not so the camp could hear but so that it was Cas’s voice yelling Dean’s name in pleasure instead of the ones he hears of pain from everyone else in his head. He needs Cas to drown out the screams and moans of terror and agony that he’s heard from everyone he’s let down, everyone he couldn’t save, everyone he’s disappointed. Three new voices joined that chorus today, and he doesn’t want to hear them. He doesn’t want to remember the looks of fear, their eyes holding one last plea for help before going dull.

And thankfully, Cas complies, practically screaming himself hoarse as he comes into Dean’s hand, but he doesn’t stop rocking back into Dean because he can’t end this alone. Dean lets him continue, even moving his own hips up now that he doesn’t have the distraction of Cas’s cock anymore. With every move Cas pulls tighter and tighter on Dean’s thigh holster until Dean can’t distinguish between the pleasure and cutting pain, and instead they mix in a confusing swirl that Dean feels is right and deserving. Finally he comes too, with only the whisper of Cas’s name in thankfulness.

They both fall back on the bed, Cas still blanketing Dean with his body. They both try to forget everything else around them as they ride the waves of pain and pleasure, Dean focusing on the dull throb in his thigh and wishing he could hold on to it for longer, so he could drown out the memories of others’ suffering with his own pain for longer. But instead, all he can do is wear the thigh holster and hope that either Cas’s soothing touch or biting pull of the strap will do it for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is part of a series that [angelwingsandthings](http://angelwingsandthings.tumblr.com/) have started called convo!fics, which are the ideas we get when we are chatting with one another. We'll get an idea and possibly outline a few key points and then we'll take that and each write our own version of it. So for this one the prompt was "thigh holster", and this is what I wrote. Hope you guys enjoy the SUPER SAD AND HOT End!verse porn!
> 
> Dean and Cas's position was inspired by [ this fanart](http://kuma-la-la.tumblr.com/post/14415061465/what-am-i-drawing-what-there-was-an-uncensored).
> 
> Come say hello on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com/)!


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